


Being a High-School Quartermaster is Not Fun

by mephistopheles



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mephistopheles/pseuds/mephistopheles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is the name for the infamous high school quartermaster.  Q is also the pseudonym for Ariel, prince of the Winter territories.<br/>In almost solitude, Q lives.  The only one to break that solitude is James Bond, his agent.  However, after hearing the biggest threat to kingdom, Q has to decide which is more important to him, his kingdom or his James Bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. cacophonous confusion

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slightly magical AU, with powerful stone weapons. I hope that all of the references and explanations do make sense.  
> Also, I am debating whether or not to continue this so I'll let you guys decide.  
> Thank you for reading.

             _The Academy is a place for truly gifted and talented people that are too dangerous to be kept with normal people.  It is a large estate on it's own island, surrounded by frigid seas and dense forests.  Several students each year go off to do their own thing and never return from the blackness outside the comfort of their new home._

_The concept of the Academy was very different from the reaction people thought the students would have.  It was, in a way, much like families or houses.  People there didn't want to leave.  They enjoyed the competition that came from the house system; it was a proper way to work out their anger.  There were three houses, divided by the kinds of people that inhabited each one.  Each house had it's own dormitory, equipped with it's own specialties, and two students roomed in each room.  Within the house the people were divided by rank and gender, the top students getting the top floors, and so on._

_The Houses were of a long lineage, originating in the first Great Winter War.  The first house was for the people who were of Winter blood, the second for people of Autumn or Spring blood, the last house was for people of Summer blood.  The first house was called Kastion, the second was Artimora, and the last was Parmeteous.  The Houses were formed when the leaders of each territory came together to devise a system so that they could all work together while simultaneously working against each other._

_Like the Houses, there were three major nations, composed of many smaller states and counties.  To the North and the Far South, there was the people of Winter Blood.  Moving inward, the people who inhabited the lands and islands closer to the center were of Summer blood if they were near to the North and Autumn blood if they were to the Far South.  In the middle were the Summer bloods, the weakest mages of all of the kingdoms.  From each kingdom, there was a King and a Queen.  The Winter blood's royalty was the Skyehawks, for the Spring it was the Ambets, Autumn was the Musikivs, and the Summer lineage was the Wolfes.  The Skyehawks usually were neutral on foreign affairs and the Ambets and the Musikivs hated the Wolfes with everything they had.  They were the cause of most Great Wars._

            Q hated when they made him read about the Academy, especially when it tied into the royal lineage.  He hated the way everyone would turn around and stare at him, making him feels extremely unwanted.  But then that would cause James to grab his hand a little tighter and no, that was not a blush.  When that happened, it was easy to forget about his lineage and his real name.  It was like a curse, no one spoke unless he was in grave trouble.  It wasn't a particularly good name either, it just carried many bad connatations.  When he was a little kid he loved to say it, test it out on his tongue, tried to think of the body he saw as the name he knew.  Now he hated it.  It was something that put him apart from everyone else in the world. 

            Ariel Skyehawk.  Actually, it was Ariel Quincy Skyehawk, but everyone knew who you were talking about at this school if you said "the cold-hearted prince".  He wasn't cold-hearted in personality, it was just if you had Winter blood, you naturally had a lower temperature.

            James hand left his for a moment, jerking him back to reality.  He really loved James, the playboy genius at anything having to do with his body.  Somehow, it seemed that James loved him too, a wonderful combination for destruction.  Q would do the non-combatal work while James was on the front line, on the offense.  Shaking his pencil in his hand, Q shivered a bit.  It was too warm in the history room, hurting his especially cold blooded system.  He hated history, he had learned everything he needed to know when he was a youngling.  He had no need for this class, unlike some Summer bloods who could not possibly know less about the subject.  Luckily, it was the last class of the day, and with twenty minutes on the clock, he couldn't wait to get back to his room. 

            His room was on the top floor of the Kastion dorms, and he dormed with the infamous Bond, the idiot who he had fallen in love with.  The one thing Q didn't like about James was that no matter what, if he needed to, he would seduce his target.  It always made Q sick and angry and James would get technology that malfunctioned while he was on a job.  James would come back with an "I'm sorry" gift and Q would look up at him, acceptance in his glance.  Other times it was much worse.  Q would scream and yell while James sat there, his voice sharp as ice as it dug into Q's heart.  The scars he left never healed, no matter how much James believed it. 

            Their room was a nice and luxurious one, with two bedrooms and a common area.  Most of the time, they slept together in James' room, but when they had a fight, Q would go to his room and try to lose himself in code.  It wasn't easy.  Sometimes, he knew James snuck out to hang out with that one senior, or that one duchess, and he would sit in his room and let tears fall.  He wasn't crying, no.  It was just...  Then sometimes James could be the sweetest person and get him his earl grey and give him a massage.  James wasn't fit to be perfectly attached to one person, but Q was willing to take what he got, and he got about seventy percent of James' heart.  Q gave James all of his, and that missing thirty percent made him the most unstable person at the Academy.  It made him the cold-hearted prince of Skyehawk. 

            The bell rang and James looked up at him.  They had talked earlier, he needed to see the headmaster about something or another.  Q smiled, a fake smile, and gathered up his things.  He wrapped his scarf around his neck like his nan had taught him and donned his favorite trenchcoat, pulling his small, cotton and leather satchel onto his shoulder.  Besides James, he didn't have any friends that he could call his.  He only knew James' friends, like Eve and Mallory.  So instead of following the crowd up to dorms before dinner, he escaped out into the cold, frigid air.  It was a tad too cold for his Winter blood, but it made the trenchcoat worth the haul.

            It was winter, and the trees around him were mere shadows of their full beauty.  The clouds hung low in the sky, threatening to unleash tears and tears from their grayness.  He walked along the cobblestone walkway at rather fast speed.  It wasn't like he knew where he was going, but it was nice to exercise his muscles.  The older school buildings loomed over him, the antiqueness of them managing to be quaint and omnious at the same time.  That was when Q realized where he was going.  He was going to the chapel.  He looked around before he ducked under the old archway of the decaying buildings, the path becoming narrower and narrower as he went.  The cobblestones beneath him turned from their warm brown into a frigid blue as he crossed the threshold of an old house.  The air was warmer by a few degrees and Q shed his trenchcoat and satchel.  He walked past the faded paintings and broken statues, the result of the First Great War.  It always put things into perspective for him.  It was easier to cope with James and being a Skyehawk, even if he didn't want to.  As he came closer, the reflection pool and garden seemed to be alive with the voices of those far from it.  He saw many faces in the pool, swirled in the dark depths of it's surface.  He took another step and saw himself, older, wiping off tears as he smiled at the him on the surface above.  That was when he heard the melody, the melody of the peoples so long ago.  He opened his mouth and began to sing, the soft, melodious tone being joined by so many in this courtyard.  "When the two meet, that is when the battle greet, when the hawk screeches and the arrow flies, that is when peace says its goodbye, as the sun hides from summers fair grace, that is where winter takes its place." 

            He exhaled and looked into the reflection pool, only seeing his reflection.  He only knew the first verse of the Battle Hymn of the Prophets, and it was a very loud spoken verse at that.  As he turned around, he could picture the princes and knights and queens dining together in this castle, unaware of the danger right outside their doorstep and suddenly, like a cold winter's chill in summer, the castle would be ransacked and the people, murdered.  The candle lights would burn out, never to be seen again.  The first Skyehawk the Brave and Wolfe the Gallant would join together on the battlefield, to avenge the deaths and save the kingdom.  They would then divide up the kingdom, and the rest is well, history.  Q turned away from the humbling pond and as he was going to put on his trenchcoat, saw something unusual.  He picked it up and watched as it glistened in the light.  It was a small sapphire necklace, shaped like a teardrop, around a silver chain.  He bent over to put it down, but as he went to grab his satchel, it caught.  Maybe, Q thought, if it wants me to, I guess I'll take it. 

            The sapphire reminded Q about something he'd read about a long while ago, the Sapphire Scythe.  When mages power sources went down, certain people possessed these weapons, and with a control, were able to control them.  The most of those weapons there had been was five, including the Ruby, the Emerald, the Amber, the Diamond, and the Sapphire.  The first four were destroyed after the First Great War and deemed too dangerous to ever be in use ever again, their remains scattered among the winds.  The Sapphire was a cause for many to look for it's treasure, after being reported missing after the Third Great War by the Musikivs.  Many centuries later, people were still looking for it, and the media followed it with great enthusiasm.  Nothing was too low for them.

            Q rustled out his watch from under the large arms of the trenchcoat, and mentally slapped himself as he realized that time had escaped him.  He shoved the teardrop sapphire under his many layers and rapidly buttoned up his trenchcoat as he raced out of his sanctuary.  If he had been paying more attention, he would've noticed the reflection in the pond with the cracked smile, looking at him.  He didn't though, and the figure just mumbled, "another time", and disappeared.

            Outside, Q cursed at his inability to keep time.  Sure he was the smartest and most famous out of his class, but he couldn't keep time and distinctly tell his left from his right.  The walk back was more strenuous then the one there, his pace increased as he hoped to get back there in time.  His heart was running, going faster than he had ever wanted it to go as he ran the last few streets.  His breathing was erratic and his lungs hurt from the colder air.  He saw the outline of the secret door he always used at the back of the Kastion dorms as he slipped in and raced to the elevator, lucky that he had food up in his room as he tried to calm his breathing.  The glossy, chrome and electric blue elevator rolled up the floors as he smiled, a nice lopsided one.  It was one of those moments, the ones where he would be happy for no reason.  The elevator made a little chirrup as it hit his floor, opening up into the access code passcode.  He quickly typed it in, the door sliding in to reveal the actual door of his apartment.  Red, if that said anything about the people that lived there.  It was a red door.  He looked into the viewfinder and waited while it scanned his iris and let him in, one of his favorite little defense mechanisms.  He looked on the sofa and found James sitting there, staring at the television.

            "You're late." He grumbles in his low, come at me voice.

            "Or am I early?" Q naturally quips back, voice a couple notes lower.

            "I think you're just in time for the show."  James grabs him and they're against the wall, James' lips on Q's.  He slides his hand up under James' shirt and trails his hand along his toned abdomen as James does things that should be illegal with his tongue on Q's neck.  James hands, almost being forgotten, slip their way up the back of Q's shirt and while Q is focused on mapping out James' body, James scratches up Q's back.  Q arches towards James, his hands stuttering in their movement.  Q can't take this pace, it's too slow.  So, without warning, he pushes James down to the floor, and like a good little field agent, James complies with his orders.  Q straddles James' hips as he bends in to place sloppy kisses along James' neck. 

            Q's eyes roll as he hears James' phone ring and James shout an expletive, all progress halted in search for the stupid device.  He answers the phone gruffly, with as much kindness as he can conjure, which, at the moment, isn't much.  He grimly nods and Q knows what that means, Mallory's been forced to break it to him that he's shoved on another mission without his Q.  Hair mussed up, Q tugs his jacket back down and reaches down to grab his trenchcoat.  As James argues with Mallory about how he did one of these last week, Q and his trenchcoat slip into his room, a cozy and comforting place.  Some days he sits on the corner of his bed and thinks of what will happen when he graduates.  He never wants to graduate.  Other days he'll put up another picture, another poster on his wall.  He even attempts to control the technology mess that threatens to overtake most of the room.  But the thing that he does most of the time is he sits on the balcony and reads.  Especially during the beginning of winter, when it's a perfect time for his blood type.  There are those times when James is out fuming that he stands on the wall and has to talk himself down.  It's not worth it, he always ends up rationalizing.  On good nights, he'll hear the infamous pianist playing his music in the distance.  It's something different each time, last time it was Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. 

            Now he's resisting the urge to get his cigarettes out and take a drag as he watches the lake shimmer under the palour of the magic lamps.  He can still faintly hear James' voice from the other room as he decides to do the idiotic and he sits on the ledge.  Not under the ledge, but on the top of the icy structure.  He watches as the lake beneath him undulates and as the lights dim as people leave for late dinner.  He checks his watch, its already seven, yet it's as dark as if it's midnight in summer.  The sun almost set and the moon is in it's chambers, waiting for it's cue.  He swings his feet as far as they will go without imbalancing him, which isn't much.  His red high-tops are accented by the warm dying rays of the sun.  A sharp wind blows by him and he smiles, thinking of his brothers still at the Skyefall Castle at Winterrock.  Home is a nice place sometimes, he decides.  He hears James' end the conversation and feels the warmth of someone who's not a royal Winter blood slid in next to him.

            "You're going'ta fall one day, you know."

            "Like Humpty Dumpty or like Sherlock?"

            He heard James' quieted chuckled, deep and rumbling in the back of his throat.

            "Who'd be your Moriarty?"

            "Dunno."  Q looks away from James' perfect face and looks at the brighting moon.  James leans into Q and Q leans into James and they're perfect until a black crow almost runs straight into them.

            "I think I know who wants to be your Moriarty, Q."

            "Shove it, Bond."

            "Getting harsh on me, are you?"

            "I think you deserve this." Q swats at James' arm as he swings around and off the balcony's ledge.  He walks through the hurricane that is his room and goes to the common room and sits down on the worn leather sofa.  He sinks in and grabs his book from the side table.  He hears James start tea and he smiles, it's going to be a good night.  He's deep in his book when James grabs his colder hand and wraps it around the mug of earl grey.  Q looks up and smiles, James looks at him with a smirk, and he settles next to him, putting on their television.  It's on mute and closed caption, but Q knows one of James' favorite movies when he sees them.  He puts his book back down and leans into James, the slightly warmer man grunting in approval. 

            Q wrinkles his nose at the smell of coffee on James' breath.  He's always hated the stuff, finding that if you had to drink something like that you'd have to be desperate.  James' feet and Q's find a spot on the coffee table in front of them, and suddenly tired, Q feels James' arms wrap around him.  He's so content, that he doesn't notice the second heartbeat in his chest.  He just drifts off a little bit.

            When he wakes up he can smell food.  He sits up and James laughes, commenting under his breath.  Q looks at his watch and it's been around two and half hours.  He shakes his head, and the blanket off him. 

            "I thought you'd need a kiss from the prince to wake up, sleeping beauty."

            "I'm sorry if I only see a frog."

            "Then with a kiss I'll turn into the prince, right?"

            "Not this time."  James is next to Q now, with the food, and Q swats at James' hand.  James pulls out a carton of noodles and chicken and places it in front of Q. 

            "Thanks."

            James just gets out a carton of chicken and pork and vegetables for himself and begins to eat.  He looks different from when Q was last conscious.  He looks harder and sterner, and that's when Q's brain decides to remember the phone call and the mission that James' is going be put on.  Without Q, his brain supplies.  Q's still on mandatory leave after the most recent incident that was not his fault.  It's nice because it means that he doesn't have to go in to headquarters, but instead he has to go to class.  Since James is a field agent, when he's not working a mission or in the hospital, he's in class.  Q's only in class when he's not at headquarters, which is when he's on mandatory leave.  This had only happened once before because the Musikivs decided to get involved and botch the mission up to the seventh hell.  Headquarters itself was shut down for a mandatory week, and the included party for three.

            Q picks at his food, eating it slowly, while James watches one of his favorite black and white movies.  He knows it, but he can't remember the name.  It has something to do with Rosebud, but that's all he remembers.  James has already mostly finished his food, the almost empty carton sitting on the coffee table in front of them.  Q's full now, with a quarter of the carton left, and reaches for his mp3 player.  His very first invention, it was.  It was the size of a half inch squared, blue and grey, and had all of his favorite music on there since he was fourteen.  He hits shuffle and his smile widens when he hears the first song.  It's Finale by Madeon and he turns the music up. James says something, but all he can see is James' lips moving and he begins to laugh.  James pouts and Q continues laughing at James hand signals, only stopping when the songs ends.  He pulls out his earbuds and watches as James shakes his head and turns his gaze back to the movie.  It's almost over, Q knows, because they're cataloging all of his possessions.  James is eerily quiet though.  Usually he's contemplating the movie, making almost silent noises as he agrees with himself, but now it's really too quiet.  Q knows and is scared of the silence.  The last major silence was back at Dimitri's funeral five years ago, and that was...  But this couldn't be as bad as that was. 

            "James."

            However, James doesn't turn towards him.  He just sits, staring at the screen, with a blank expression on his face.  Q doubts that James can even hear his voice.  He reaches out to touch James shoulder, but he stops his hand midway as James features relax.  Q's nervous now too, but if what's troubling James has to do with his nervousness, there's no way Q's going to show it. 

            His right hand awkwardly in the air, he turns around to grab his carton of abandoned food.  As he gets up he feels light-headed and the warmth stings his bare feet, making him shiver a bit.  He decides to throw away the carton, instead of keeping it until it rotted in the fridge.  He looked over and out of the corner of his eye, he could see James.  He could see James being 007, not the James that was James Bond.  It wasn't his lover that was sitting in the common room, it was the weapon.  His feet feel too warm, making him shiver more as he perfunctorily begins to wash his hands.  He lets the comforting cold water wash over his hands as he closes his eyes.  Blind, he grabs the soap and begins a lather.  He finishes and dries, throwing the rag over to the other side of the sink once he's done. 

            Nervous, Q walks past James and into his room, closing the door behind him.  He sits but then thinks about it and gets up to lock the door.  His room is very personalized and very unique, but in some ways it's not very comfortable.  His bed is so worn that the springs occasionally hurt his back.  It's too warm, he thinks as he opens the balcony door.  Outside he can hear the rustling of the leaves and the lone howl of a wolf.  The sky is now midnight black and the only things he can see are because they're illumed by the lights on the rim of the lake.  If he wanted to he could jump of the balcony and into the lake, unharmed.  Now that he thinks about it, the lake should be frozen at this time of year.  It isn't because of magic and because the school needs the water for miscellaneous uses.  He walks over and onto the balcony.  The scene around him is cold and barren with little difference from the winters in the North.  He's faintly reminded of the birthdays that never happened and the celebrations that were always spoiled.  It wasn't his fault that he had two capable, willing brothers that were cookie-cutter kings, while he would rather invent than destroy. 

            The wind cools down and the frigid air does much to calm Q's temper, while he watches the sky.  The clouds huddle together, and from it little white snowflakes fall down to the earth below.  They dance amongst each other and amongst the wind, the fragility of it all is something Q is well to used to.  As a little kid, Q was never one to go out with his brothers and father on a hunt.  He would stay at the grand hall, the pictures of old Skyehawks watching as he would read or design.  Most of the time when the clock struck midnight, he'd creep out in his pajamas and watch the snow from the balcony that overhung the woods beyond.  He would move the little snowflakes and build them into wolves or hawks or police boxes, whatever he last read about.  Then a strong wind would carry them off and poof, they were gone.  The sun would show his dour face and the snowflakes would melt at the sight, their last argument lost.  It was on those days that he would feel melancholy and would lock himself up in his room, fearing the torment of his brothers.

            Now, the snowflakes here seemed different.  They seemed more than fragile, with more vigor than their Northern counterparts.  They would indignantly pile up on his hair and on his shoulders, making him into a snowman.  Q could feel the cold seeping through the several layers that he was wearing, but he didn't care.  It wasn't until he heard a door slam that he bothered to move, a shake of the shoulders.  He knew that door slam was James, and the door was the one to their apartment.  James needed space and a night alone from the train wreck that was Q.  Q couldn't find it in himself to mind, even though he knew he should.  What would Baron think?  Of course, he didn't know because Baron was long gone.  He was a ghost of the happy things that Q never had.  As he sunk to the icy cold floor, he began to hum.  The old words came to him at once, but it feels wrong to sing them here, so he doesn't.  He looks up at the big moon with it's smiling face and wonders why it's so wrong to want something that you can't have or doesn't want you. 

            Q feels like the little matchgirl, running out of matches and out of time.  He knows that warmth is so close, but he doesn't want to go inside.  He would rather stay out here and light his last match.  He flicks his first two fingers skyward, and even if using magic outside of school is prohibited, he does it anyway.  A little fire appears and he brings it close to his heart as if it could defrost it.  Q smiles as he feels the familiar pull of sleep and doesn't think for one moment that falling asleep outside could be dangerous.  It is, though.  It's probably the most dangerous thing that he could do right now. 


	2. mysteries & meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fight with Bond, Q decides to take the more than scenic route around the campus; but what trouble will that bring?

            When he wakes up, it's barely light outside.  He stumbles upwards and has to catch himself, because since when did he leave the curtain to his windows open?  He looks around and he's still outside, but he's shrouded in warmth.  He unlocks the freezing door behind him and lets himself into the room within.  Avoiding his inviting bed, he goes out into the common room.  James isn't back, he realizes, because his running shoes are still here.  Every morning, true to form, James goes on a run.  It wouldn't be like him to just not go.  To be sure, Q checkes his room and the covers are freezing and there is no James in sight.  He lets out the breath he's been holding and goes back out to the common room and fixes himself a snack.  French toast, milk, and the morning paper later, he gets ready for class.  He goes into their bathroom, a tiny sized thing near James' room and looks at himself in the mirror for a while, noting the color in his cheeks despite being outside all night.  That just didn't happen to normal people.  Stumbling, he went through his normal motions, even waiting for the hot water to come on before washing his face.  He sits down on the sofa as he laces up his Oxford's, watching for any sign of hypothermia to appear.  None do and he is out the door before he can even bother to think about looking around the balcony for answers. 

            He decides that if he can survive hypothermia, he can survive twenty flights of stairs, but by the time he's down to the first floor, he's severely out of breath and exhausted.  Too warm, he rushes out into the cold, and that's when he spots James.  James is over near the sofas, talking to Jeanette.  It doesn't make his blood freeze like most jealous people, he just uses the crowd--freshman, no surprise--to hide his appearance.  He's quickly in the frigid air again and he resists the urge to run far away.  Instead he goes down from the Kastion dorms, past the Artimora dorms, until he came to a pause at the edge of a forest.  He's looking at the vast clearing and immense flowers that stretched all the way to the mountains ahead.  This was Paremeteous magic, he knew.  They were the gentlest and most kind of all the houses, even if they were afraid to be anywhere near him.  But he had been trying some of their magic and he could use it mildly well.  The flowers turned to him when he bridged the gap between them and the forest, smiling brighter than the moon on a full night.  He bent down to touch them and a girl gasped as they turned from little dandelions into a bush of roses.  Q quickly backed away at the sound and the girl seemed frozen to the spot, but before he could run back into the safety of the woods, she called out, "Wait!"

            He stood there and watched as she carefully pranced around the flowers.  He could see her now and he was surprised to find that he didn't know her.  She had hair like amber and eyes like chocolate, wearing a spring dress with stockings even in the winter weather.  She looked as amazed to see him as he did to her.

            Once she was about a yard away, she stuck out her hand.  He shook it heartily and quickly, as he could feel the Summer blood running through her.  She opened her mouth and said, "Name's Laura Draconis."

            He replied within a heartbeat, "Q."

             "What a strange name!"  She laughed and he smiled bashfully.                            

            " 'T's not as weird as Laura."

            "Hey," she poked his chest, "My name's good and complicated.  It's not just a letter."

            "Q wins more points than Laura in Scrabble, I don't see how it's much better."

            She lifted her head, mock offended, as she began to walk towards the Paremeteous dorms.  Intrigued, Q followed her.  After a few moments of silence, he asked her, "What do you know about me?"

            "What's right in front of me.  I mean, I can tell that you're a techie, your scrawny body and wrinkled clothes say that much.  I also know that you're a high Winter blood, who else has manners like yours?  You obviously already have that special person, but they don't care for you, 'cause otherwise you wouldn't be here."

            "You sure your name's not Sherlock, right?"

            "Nah."  She stopped and faced the mountains. "If it was I'd have a Watson and a timely death."

            "I didn't mean..." Q started.

            "It's okay.  Just that I don't want to be here.  I don't want to make family alliances or look for an eligible man.  I don't want to be like my cousins."  Q gets it then, who this person is.  She's the cousin to the Wolfes and the next in line if there is another Great War. 

            "Do you really not know who I am?"

            "I do, but...  If you're like me, you don't want it to bite you that often."

            Now they're down by the far lake, the shimmering clearness stretching off into the distance.  It's no ocean like the one that surrounds the island, but it's amazing to Q.  Before coming here he could only imagine the beauty of the clear lakes.  At home all they had was black frozen lakes, not these.  He could faintly make out a cabin in the direction they were headed, and decided that if the professors really needed him they could find him themselves. 

            "Laura."

            "Yeah?"

            "Why do you trust me?"

            "You look like you need to be trusted, like you need more attention."

            Q exhales at that comment, her correctness being equally nice and frightening.

            "I know that your the head of Intel branch here.  I know that you're dating 007.  But what I don't see is why.  Why date someone that is proven will lie and hurt you?"

            He holds his breath for a moment before speaking.  "I can't do anything but love him.  I really wish I could, but I can't."  Laura smiles at that, a sad dejected smile, and he can hear the earth crunch under their feet as they near the cabin.  He smiles back at her. 

            The cabin is full of character.  It's all lines and triangles and it's blue and white, glinting on silver.  Laura pulls out a key and after a few moments of jingling, they're inside.  It's warmer than Q likes, but it's a little nippy for a Summer blood.  He looks around at where they've come inside, walking down the picture laden hallway to sit down on the oversized fabricated chair.  Laura goes into what appears to be a kitchen and is, because he can hear her start tea.  However, his interest is drawn elsewhere as he looks at the titles she has on the bookcase, smiling at how many he likes.  He then looks at the photographs, of her and her friends, her family, and her home.  There are many things on the wall though that when she comes back with tea he's only a third of the way at glancing over everything. 

            "Any questions?"

            "No, you know, just's a nice place."

            "It was originally the groundkeepers house but when he moved away, he gave it to me as a present.  Told me to be hush about it."

            "I can see why, it's a wonderful place to ditch class."

            "Eh.  I only go to about half of my classes, the teachers don't even notice.  I come in for tests, that's about it.  If you want, you can come here too.  I haven't had many guests since Maylise graduated."

            "I will."

            He hears a faint song playing and Laura smiles.  He's heard the song before, but he doesn't know where it's from.  "Boots," Laura comments, "The Killers." She grabs his cold hand and leads him to another room around the corner, filled with a christmas tree, a television, and a curved sofa.  The television is playing the music, while it displays the name of the song, artist, and album.  Subconsciously, Q finds himself swaying to the song and watches as Laura turns the playlist off, the next song flashing on the screen quickly before disappearing.  The song ends and he plops ungracefully into the comfortable circular thing that his brain doesn't feel like naming.  The television turns into a mock fireplace and he laughes, a pleasant feeling lighting him up.  A heater far behind the telly begins to start up and even though his body isn't exactly comfortable with the warmth, he relaxes nonetheless.  Laura reappears with two books and his cup of tea, setting it beside him and giving him the book.  A Game of Thrones, he reads off the cover.  "I thought you might like it." Is all Laura says before they delve into reading.  By the time he puts the book up, two hours have passed and his tea has gone cold.  Laura is asleep on her side of the sofa, and Q looks around the room.

            After scribbling a quick note of thanks, he leaves the little cabin.  It was nice, but friendships with himself only end badly.  He goes down to the clear ocean and rubs his eyes as he sees the water catch fire.  It turns from it's beautiful transculency into a brilliant sapphire as it shapes itself into a winged lion.  Q goes to one knee and the lion begins to speak.  "I am the Sapphire."  It roars.  "You are the one who will be forced to use me.  You have not been properly trained, I see.  But you will need me soon, so you need to make a contract."  He doesn't question as the words tumble out of his mouth, unafraid.  "I, Ariel Quincy Skyehawk, do form a contract with the Sapphire Scythe."  The lion looks at him and he feels unchanged as he feels a violent shaking.

            He opens his eyes to see Laura's chocolate ones.  "You were having an unpleasant dream, Q."  He just says "oh" and looks back at her.  "Thank you." He follows up with.  Strange, he thinks, he could have sworn he was awake.  He looks back at Laura and regrets what he's going to do.  He stands up and says, "So sorry and thanks for the tea but I must be leaving."  She looks at him wide-eyed as he makes his escape.  He runs down to the river, his lungs aching from the air, and splashes his face.  Something was wrong.  He didn't dream, not ever.  Even his mother had said that he must have been cursed by some witch to not dream.  It was nice because he never woke up covered in sweat and terrified unlike everyone else.  He didn't relive his glory moments and become depressed when he woke up.  He just didn't dream.

            So that lead him to believe that this wasn't a dream, that this was something more.  The Sapphire, why would it turn up now?  And what trouble could be brewing?


End file.
